A Reason in Paris
by CrossRow
Summary: "I knew you didn't die in the explosion. People always die without a reason to live and you have a reason, Mr. Wayne."


**A Reason in Paris**

**All characters belong to Christopher Nolan and DC Comics**

**I do not own any of these characters. My works are clearly for fun.**

* * *

Bruce Wayne had always known himself as a man of distinction, refinement and fierce determination.

Mindful of his surroundings was one reason why he was still on the edge with accepting that there was something far greater in his life. He chose not to pursue a beautiful woman as his wife had become a simple choice. He wanted to find the right person walked through the shadows of his pain and grief.

He was always on guard, always preparing for the fight and always thinking about her everything where he went travel bound. He was trying to find another reason to live from the darkness of the bat cave his sanctuary, having to escape the city that he once vowed to protect with his blood, sweat and tears.

He used his densely muscular body as his greatest weapon of purging evil out of the streets and having the people something to believe in when he wear the cape and cowl.

After he saved millions of lives from the reactor Bruce thought he could save the world's energy source, but instead it had become used by deception by Miranda Tate to destroy everything his stubborn heart cared for. He saved Gotham by sacrificing himself for the people just like how his father stood in front of him and took the bullet into his courageous heart.

Now, he was living in Paris, and ironic place that he once swore that he would never dare to adapt in the city of romance, pastry and wine. After he successfully wiped his identity from every known database in the world, he began to rebuild his life using funds he tucked away in his Swiss Bank account, and then established a purpose of supply funding for remodeling hospitals, shelters.

He became a friend a small nine old year girl named Eloise at the Sick Children's Hospital-she was an orphan like him, suffering a life threatening blood disorder. He found her wandering the streets one night, dressed in rags and hurled in a corner alley. After he wrapped his arms around her, he took her in for a short time until her condition became worse.

Tonight, after visiting Eloise for two hours which consisted of teaching her English and reading her a story.

Bruce pulled on a face of determination and walked into a river front bar, dressed in a severe black shirt and a black jeans that fitted snug around his slender waist. He used his charismatic methods of the billionaire playboy and found a dance partner at the bar.

She was a tall Bosnian, long auburn hair and dressed in an exceptional sleeveless black dress. He took her hand into his and danced with her. When he looked with a firm gaze into her brown eyes, he realized that they could never compare to the dark piercing gaze of Selina Kyle.

He found himself looking over her shoulder, his hazel eyes focused on the shadows as lots of women in all different shapes and sizes came into his view-all dressed in ritzy black dresses but the shade didn't suit them.

When he caught a glimpse of a young dark-haired woman sitting at a corner table, his heart thumped in his chest as palms got sweaty and felt a smile crave into his lips as anticipation rose in his veins. Hope diminished when he looked at a tall dark, tall man with a beard kiss her lovingly on the cheek.

The dance ended, he took his date and sat at the bar, she was a great in conversation and had a beautiful, trusting smile. He bought her a few drinks and sipped a glass of soda, they talk about their past which didn't go into details and then after the casual conversation finished he leaned over and gave a soft kiss on the cheek.

She placed her hand on his chiseled face and kissed him on the lips, her mouth as soft against his but the deep feeling just wasn't there. After walking her to a waiting Porsche, he covered her lips hotly with his, thinking maybe there was something-a spark between them-but there was nothing.

He watched her drive off in the traffic, still tasting the lingering warmth of her kiss on his lips, and he turned his hooded gaze to the golden caress of light coming from the Eiffel Tower, and he wasted not time of heading down the street.

He had become frustrated and angry when he reached the elevators, stepping inside and leaning his back into the wall as he looked at the scenic few of the enchanting city.

* * *

When Bruce reached the top of the tower, he strode to the rails of the ledge and glared down at couples with a fiery gleam in his hazel eyes, and a sullen expression on his face. He never felt so edgy with emotion, so alone that the urge to jump off the ledge and into the night air consumed his thoughts until he heard a familiar voice.

"Well, this is a surprise," a low purr of velvet wafted in his ears. "I didn't expect to you here."

Releasing a sharp exhalation of breath, Bruce turned around with automatic reaction to the shadows near the elevator, his eyes shot a penetrating stare of disbelief when he found no one was there-just darkness. He set his jaw hard, shaking his head with disappointment swelling inside him.

He turned around, scoffing off the hope of finding her with vexation pulsing in his veins.

"If you're going jump," the same infuriating voice taunted him. "I suggest you down a more drinks. Gives falling on your ass a more thrilling experience."

He turned around a second time and crossed his solid arms over his chest as he settled his eyes with a transfixed stare at the devil in the details and famous cat burglar-Selina Kyle. She was leaning against the rails, wine bottle in her hand-stolen. A dangerous scarlet lips played a sly grin as she watched him become unbalanced.

She looked beautiful and deadly as ever, her lithe body covered in little black dress with thigh high boots. Her glossy auburn hair disheveled with bangs and she wore a golden necklace with a cat pendent clasped around her neck and after sweeping a gaze over her he managed with a smooth baritone, "I've fallen enough on my ass, Miss Kyle."

"I know," she replied, a savage gleam sparkled in her brown eyes, remaining aloof. His lips curved into a small grin, "I'm surprised you're not in shock to see me. I am technically dead."

"Yeah, I had a feeling you were," she replied with a brisk voice. "I knew you didn't die in the explosion. People always die without a reason to live and you have a reason, Mr. Wayne."

"Which is?" he asked, almost sounding a bit weary.

She stared at him, taking another gulp of wine, and he instinctively pulled himself closer to her with two simple words piercing from his lips, "Tell me?"

"Now why would I do that," she replied with a low purr ghosting over her full lips.

He fastened his lips tightly, " It sounds like you know me better than I do, Miss Kyle. I guess that kiss we shared wasn't a part of the reason?"

She stared at him, her brown eyes darkened as the mask harden emotions stripped off of her, "The kiss was just to give you a taste of what could have happened between us." She lowered her eyes. " It was nothing to give you a reason to survive."

His eyes dazzled at this, "It's always the art of survival with you."

"It's always about dying with you," she shot back coldly, lifting the bottle delicately against her lips. "Well, I can say that you weren't really missed in Gotham. Just another name on casualty list in the morning paper. Although four people were at your funeral. James Gordon, an African-American, the annoying beat cop that through me into the slammer and your butler."

"You were at my funeral?" he asked, pursing his lips.

"No. I went to your family estate after everyone cleared out. I prefer solo goodbyes."

"But you said that you know I wasn't dead," he pointed out evenly.

"I had to show some respect to the grave that had your name written on it. What kind of woman would I be?" She placed the wine bottle down, and slid her body of the rail ready to put distance between them again.

"I thought you weren't the caring type."

"I'm never one for empathy, " she spat, giving him a stabbing look. "Besides, I went back to your mansion to claim what's mine."

"Did you find it?" he asked with playboy confidence in his voice, stepping closer to her. "Or was it something else, maybe, something you couldn't bear to lose."

"I hope you're not talking about your wallet." Selina smirked. 'It's still empty."

"I should have known you would go for my wallet." he said, blocking her. "You should have gone for the dresser near the window of the master bedroom that's where I kept all my watches."

She twisted the corner of her lips, "How do you think I managed to fly out of Gotham." she smirked defiantly. First class too."

"Alright, explain why you're in Paris as new cat burglar, " he asked, with a smug expression, clearing making Selina bristle under his stare. "I thought you used the Clean Slate to erase your old habits."

She felt her claws coming out, "I have a few things to take care of. Unlike you I didn't die in a nuclear expression to erase myself off the face of the earth. I have personal manners rectify."

"Personal manner," he narrowed his eyes at the strap on her leg, concealing her handgun. "Or lethal?"

"Why does it matter to you?" She stormed into the elevator. Her sharp jaw tightened as she refused to meet his endearing hazel eyes.

The same pair of eyes that saw through her masks and made her cringe with the trust welled inside them. She wasn't going to allow her emotions to get the best of her, show her vulnerable side to a glimmer of infatuation and a lustful temptation.

She knew that love has been just storybook romance-unrealistic and impermanent. She spent only a few hours with Bruce, both in and out of masks, giving her the involuntary sense to believe in something more that might have happened between them if she finally allowed him to unmask her. Deep inside her, she felt the burning, want to stop in the clicks of her heels and look into the truth held in his gaze.

Anger bubbled in her veins, regret condemned and her heart pounded with urgency.

He followed her, "Selina, stop." He was inches behind her with his hand reaching out for her shoulder. " Don't make a rational choice that will cost you everything."

She pressed the button and waited for the elevator doors to open.

"Make the change of living a better life, now."

"Better life," she laughed with despondence but her voice was clear. " Hate to break it to you, rich boy, I'm a girl who has nothing to lose."

"Yes, you do," He enclosed his arm over her waist, his voice was soft. " You have us." Selina felt her muscled tense at his touch and stepped away from him.

"Us?" she repeated, looking down on the leg strap on her thigh, eyes flaring dangerously. "You think we'll a chance in hell to survive together. We both have differences. Mine is just a little more effective when it comes to getting what I want, Mr. Wayne." The was a harshness in her voice and coldness on her lips.

"By stealing and taking everything away from people just like what happened to you?" he reasoned with a calm voice making her heart reach a standstill.

"You don't know what's taken from me!" she flared, hot tears brimming in her eyes, words of remorse pouring out of her mouth. "What I've lost from surviving on the streets of Gotham. I sold a lot of good people out to save my skin. To cheat the very thing that took my family away from me-death."

"We're the same," he placed his hand tentatively on her bare shoulder. " My family is gone, too."

Selina looked over his shoulder, biting hard into her lip, feeling the ache of detachment in her heart. She clenched her hand into a fist, trying to regain her icy composure. She felt her lips twitch as the words rolled off her tongue as she spoke with uneven breath, "I guess we're both suckers."

"I guess we are," he said gently, holding out his hand, she gave him a glower. "The gun."

She looked down at her thigh, and removed her weapon from the strap hostler. "Boy, you sure know how to spoil a girl's sense of fun." He gave her a piercing look, searing through and making her soul cringe. She released a sigh of displeasure and slowly placed the gun in his hand. "There happy?" she asked with an edge growl.

Bruce quickly emptied the gun's clip and dissembled with a weapon with practiced ease, throwing the pieces against the elevator doors. He stood there with fire burning in his hazel eyes as she looked down at the scattered metal before meeting his stare.

"Selina, everything that happened between Gotham and with Bane is past us," he said with a hint of the Bat in his voice. "The truth is I'm looking for a way out for a long time, and you give me an escape route by setting me up in the sewers, and letting my body finally mend in the pit." He narrowed his eyes and let a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding. "When I came back I wasn't looking for Miranda Tate. I was looking for you. I wanted to save you."

She shook her head, guilt and hidden remorseful condemn to the bone. "Who said I wanted saving?"

"You did, Selina. When I looked behind your mask." He stepped closer, and placed his steady hand gently on her jaw. He looked into her brown eyes with sincere gaze. "I know there was more to you than guns, jewels and running."

"The woman behind the mask has ran all her life," she said. "Always been a stray without a home."

"I know," he said simply, moving closer as she felt the heat of his body. "I'm changing that."

"I'm not a good girl. You're taking a risk of your life with me." she whispered, heart pounding.

"True, but I've already been dead," he replied, resting his forehead against hers. "I'll take a risk of living this moment with you, Selina Kyle."

"Is this your real reason you survived to live, Bruce Wayne?"

Selina felt her whole ache; heart throbbed as the terrible emptiness of living in a shadow melted. She swallowed down her regrets, guilt and dread and became more conscious of what was in of her. Freely given it her without a price or a code to crack. She watched the faint shine of hazel beneath his half closed lids, the smooth arch of inviting his lips and the faint white scars of his past battles on his chiseled jaw.

When he enclosed his broad arms around her brush his warm lips across hers, she reached for him as anchor as if she would otherwise drown in the depths of her unforgivable sins.

For a moment their mouths covered with heat, Bruce's free hand tangling in her head. Selina melted when his knuckles stroked down her back. A heel lifted in the air as he pulled her hard against him. She put her hands around his neck; their lips sliding with moisture of heat. Through all the whirls of storms and scars of the tragedy they've experience in masks of the Batman and Catwoman, Bruce and Selina fully unmasked each other and felt something that had become worth more than anything locked in a vault.

"Yes," Bruce said, as his lips brushed heat over her ear. "Yes, it is, Selina Kyle."

For the time after watching death take her family, blood transfusions and running from her demons.

Selina felt a real smile etch over her lips as Bruce held her close to his heart.

The night breeze never felt so good on the true faces of two souls that both found a reason to live out of the darkness.

Fin.


End file.
